


i'm alright now you're here

by rowanguerrin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Dean Winchester Is Pretty Good At Feelings (For Fucking Once), Dean Winchester and Castiel Are Happy, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Heaven, M/M, because they DESERVE it dammit!, i don't know whether to call this a fix-it or a coda or what, if there is ANY angst at all it is brief and quickly resolved with more fluff, it's only as canon-compliant as you want it to be, no one shits rainbows but like there are definite rainbow-shitting vibes yano?, post 15.20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanguerrin/pseuds/rowanguerrin
Summary: “Hello, Dean.”His voice isn’t soft, per se— but it is warm, so warm, and Dean feels a piece of him settle. A smile slips its way across his face, unbidden and fleeting.“Hey, Cas.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	i'm alright now you're here

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this could be canon compliant (with a little bit of divergence so that i can smush these two clowns together and make 'em kiss). It could also, like, NOT be. Dean absolutely could have died in literally ANY other way than a dumb fucking piece of rebar and some vampire clowns with bad party city Halloween masks. the only mention made at all to canon is the Confession Scene and Bobby telling him time works funny in Heaven. Cas isn't in the Empty because i'm not homophobic.
> 
> Title is from "come with me" by chxrlotte (which is a song about Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens but also, I think, really fits Dean and Cas. Like. to a level where i did scream about it on twitter and then subsequently had a brief conversation with her about needing to reread/watch good omens??? anyway that's beside the point). 
> 
> This is in present tense which i normally don't work in because generally i don't like it a lot? but my brain said "present! tense! now!" so here we are. if something is funky grammatically feel free to point it out lol. this isn't beta read.

Dean drives. Bobby was right; time works funny in Heaven, passing by in a blur and crawling along at a snail’s pace all at once, and it’s eternal sunshine and redwood trees all around him and it’s  _ beautiful… _ and Dean aches. He thought that maybe with death he’d have some peace, some respite, and maybe he does. Maybe he does, but it feels hollow, and Dean hates that because  _ why _ isn’t it enough? Why isn’t—

He could see his parents. He  _ should _ see his parents. 

He doesn’t see his parents. The thought of it makes something bitter well up in his mouth, so strong he can’t choke it down, and Dean thinks that maybe he’s not ready for that, yet. 

He could see— shit, there are  _ so many _ people Dean could see. Death followed Dean around like a stray dog, ever present and ever feral and ever biting. There are bound to be lots’ve people up here Dean could visit; some of them are even bound to be happy to see him.

Dean doesn’t visit them. He’s not ready for that, yet, either. 

So he drives. The route is scenic, reminds him of a middle-of-nowhere highway just south of San Jose, and he’s almost content, but not quite. He pulls over at an overlook, climbs out of his car and moves to lean against the hood as he watches the sun set and send the world into vibrant orange hues. And then—

_ And then… _

There is the rustle of feathers, familiar,  _ so familiar _ , and Dean doesn’t dare look up from the sunset, because he doesn’t need to. He knows it’s Cas with a certainty that can’t be rationalized or described; he  _ knows  _ it, intimately, the same way he knows the edges of his teeth and the way his skin folds onto itself under the familiar scratch of his clothes. And he knows it, instinctively, the same way he knows how to breathe, how to blink, how to block a blow. 

Dean doesn’t turn to look at him. He doesn’t need to— he can see Cas so clearly in his mind: can see the profile of his face cast in brilliant orange light, can see the backdrop of distant evergreens, can see the smile so faint it’s easy to miss; he can see it with such vividness it steals his breath away, the thought of the flat planes and the curving lines and the  _ everything _ —

Dean doesn’t turn to look at him, because even the  _ thought _ of doing that is too much to bear. 

“Hello, Dean.”

His voice isn’t soft, per se— but it is  _ warm _ , so warm, and Dean feels a piece of him settle. A smile slips its way across his face, unbidden and fleeting. 

“Hey, Cas.”

And Dean… Dean remembers with a clarity he had denied himself the moment Cas was torn away, remembers the clenched muscles and pain and the tears and the smell of salt and of nothingness; remembers the Empty, tar-like tendrils taking Cas, remembers—

He remembers the words said. 

_ I love you.  _ Cas had said it like it was a simple, ineradicable thing, smiling even as he cried. 

_ Don’t do this, Cas _ , Dean had replied, jaw wavering and sight blurring; but what he had meant was,  _ I love you too _ . 

But admitting that would have meant that it was real, that Cas was going to be gone. Admitting that would have been to have had  _ something _ just for it to be torn away from him, and that was  _ unbearable _ , and so Dean had denied himself, bit back the words he wanted to scream into existence, and where did that leave them now?

Cas is quiet next to him, and Dean doesn’t know what to say, what to do— he’s lost in a way that has him uneasy, and so he just sits there, and watches as the sun dips down below the horizon and as stars start to poke through the darkening blue that chases the sun down the horizon. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, and so he leaves them resting against the warm hood of the Impala. 

It would be easier if they could repeat that last conversation. It would be easier if Cas would say it again, say  _ I love you _ , because Dean is too much of a coward to say it first but he can  _ say it back _ . Dean prays that Cas will say it again, hopes that this moment of agony and guilt and unsureness will  _ end _ , and—

And Dean aches for all he’s worth, because it’s his fault Cas doesn’t say it again, isn’t it? He’d been too chickenshit, too afraid to speak  _ something _ into existence between them just to lose it, and for all his intent it must’ve looked like he didn’t—

So where does he start? What does he say?

His hands shake, and so he clenches them into fists, and he—  _ shit _ .

“Cas…”

Dean’s throat closes, choking off whatever words would have come next, and he exhales a breath of a laugh, because of  _ fucking _ course. He could fight demons and angels and everything in between, could defeat God Himself and kill Death, but  _ this _ ? This—

He feels a hand, warm and calloused and the most familiar thing in the world, rest over his own, and suddenly it’s as if all of the tension that had been holding Dean up is released in the quick exhale that leaves his lungs like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and Dean slumps. And then it’s as though that release causes some dam deep within him to break, and suddenly Dean is crying, but he’s also  _ smiling _ . He doesn’t try to say anything else; he’s not sure he can. He just shifts and moves his hand so that his fingers interlace with Cas’, and finally,  _ finally _ , it feels like Heaven. 

He looks over at Cas, now. He allows himself that. 

And Cas is beautiful,  _ so beautiful _ , and he’s looking at Dean with eyes bluer than the sky and softer than anything Dean’s ever really known before, and Cas is smiling in a way that brings fresher tears to Dean’s eyes, though he’s not quite sure why. And Cas’ eyes are bright, too, unshed tears catching the last light of the day. The twilit evergreens are a deep green backdrop behind him, broken only by curving lines of empty grey road. And Dean loves him. He loves him  _ so much _ . And something about that chases away the shadows of doubt and self-hate and every other little negative thing that had built into cancerous mountains in his head and in his heart; maybe not for good, but for  _ now _ , and that is enough. He’s been given a chance here, he knows. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t take it. 

“Hi,” Dean says, because he can’t think of anything else to say at the moment. A grin that is large and beatific-feeling stretches across his face. 

Cas’ lips curl up at the corners— a soft, amused,  _ fond _ smile— and the corners of his eyes crinkle endearingly, and  _ shit _ , Dean is so in love with him it’s frankly fucking ridiculous. “Hello,” Cas says, again. This time, Dean thinks, it means  _ I love you.  _

Dean feels his heart soar. Not giving himself the time to doubt, he leans over and presses a kiss to Cas’ lips. It is an awkward angle, and he’s so jittery with nerves he misses the mark a bit, pressing the kiss to the corner of Cas’ lips instead of to the whole of them, but it’s still the best kiss Dean has ever had, and some strange euphoric feeling wells up within him, building in his stomach and effervescing up out of his mouth. It’s not a bad strange. Dean thinks he could easily get used to it. He knows he  _ wants _ to get used to it.

He pulls back, and Cas looks at him with wide, bright eyes, his mouth curling into a small ‘o’. The smile grows on Dean’s face. It’s so wide now it feels as if it’s about to split his face in half; he finds he doesn’t mind. He finds he wants to see if it can grow even bigger. 

“Dean.” Cas’ mouth sounding out his name is still the best thing Dean has ever heard. He sees Cas’ throat work, sees his mouth open and close around the beginnings of dozens of different sentences, sees him settle on wide-eyed, awed silence. And Dean aches again, but it is a sweeter ache than before. 

Dean squeezes Cas’ hand, their fingers still tangled together, and feels the smile on his face shrink and grow tender. Somehow, it is more honest and full of heart than before. The love and joy he feels has become a living thing in his chest, curling warm and humbled in a hollow Dean hadn’t known existed behind his ribs. 

It makes him brave. 

“I love you,” Dean says, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to say, and easier still to mean. 

A shocked, hopeful look flickers across Cas’ face, slackening his jaw and parting his lips. And then Cas smiles, a wide beautiful thing, and laughs. It sounds like freedom. 

They stare at each other for a moment, smiling and jubilant. Then:

“Well?” Dean says, his grin growing sharper and more flirtatious, a single brow cocking up. “Don’t you have something to tell me?”

Exasperation— fond, loving in a way that makes Dean’s heart soar— flickers across Cas’ face. He rolls his eyes. “You are  _ insufferable _ .”

Dean’s answering grin feels dopey. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yes,” Cas huffs out in a soft facsimile of a laugh; that small, soft smile curls the corners of his lips once again. “I love you, anyway.” 

Cas leans over and kisses him, gentle and chaste. It is a promise and a confirmation and a beginning and bookend all at once, and it leaves Dean feeling full and light. And, yeah. Shit. He can  _ definitely _ get used to this. 

They sit in comfortable silence, their hands clasped and their eyes watching the last golden rays of the sun dip below the horizon and the stars flicker into life in the deep blue of the sky. The world around them darkens, and the air cools. Dean thinks that this, here, is happiness beyond saying. It is the happiness of having, and it is as bright and beautiful as the stars above. 

**Author's Note:**

> not featured: me beating back Dean's self-loathing and insecurities with a big stick so that he can have a moment of emotional intelligence. "heaven makes you magically happier" NOPE I AM JUST THERE. AGAIN, WITH A BIG STICK. 
> 
> anyway hi i'm rowan and i backslid into caring about spn so here's a fic. I think they deserve to be happy and in love and in scenarios where I'm not tempted to throw rocks at them until they level up their emotional intelligence and communication skills. Also I haven't seen the finale yet but I do have taste and a braincell and recognize that these clowns' feelings are NOT unrequited, thanks, so. Heaven get-together fic because I am frankly Too Lazy to come up with anything else. This techincally was part of a longer fic but I wanted to get this out for Dean's birthday (OBVIOUSLY i missed the mark there, f, but happy belated birthday to my #1 source of gender envy, Dean Winchester!) so I decided to scrap the part where I gave him a different death. As a lil birthday gift. Maybe one day I will post it? Depends. 
> 
> also i have a Very Specific Overlook in mind for this. i don’t remember what highway it’s on tho lmao so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ vague overlook between Big Basin and San Jose
> 
> if you want I am on twitter (@rowanguerrin) and tumblr (rowan-guerrins). i scream about spn a lot on the former. you can always feel free to scream at me a lot on either platform. probably i will scream back.


End file.
